The whole kit & doodle!

If we could reduce the world’s population to a village of precisely 100 people, with all existing human ratios remaining the same, the demographics would look something like this:

60 Asians
12 Europeans
5 US Americans and Canadians
8 Latin Americans
14 Africans
49 would be female
51 would be male
82 would be non-white
18 white
89 heterosexual
11 homosexual
33 would be Christian
67 would be non-Christian
5 would control 32% of the entire world’s wealth, and all of them would be US citizens
80 would live in sub standard housing
24 would not have any electricity
(And of the 76% that do have electricity, most would only use it for light at night.)
67 would be unable to read
1 (only one) would have a college education.
50 would be malnourished and 1 dying of starvation
33 would be without access to a safe water supply
1 would have HIV
1 near death
2 would be near birth
7 people would have access to the Internet

If you have a bank account,
money in your purse
and there is some trifle in your coin box,
you belong to 8% of well-provided people in this world.

If there is a meal in your refrigerator,
if you are dressed and have got shoes,
if you have a bed and a roof above your head,
you are better off, than 75% of people in this world.

If you have never experienced a war,
the loneliness of an imprisonment,
an agony of tortures, or a famine,
You are happier, than 500 million persons in this world.

If you woke up this morning with more health than sickness,
you are luckier than the million that will not survive this week.

If you are able to go to church, mosque or synagogue
without fear of harassment, arrest, torture or death,
you are happier, than 3 billion persons in this world.

If you take a look at the world from this condensed perspective,
the need for acceptance, understanding and education becomes evident.

I think I mentioned in an earlier post that I asked my sisters to do DNA testing with me. This is best, I believe, for all our sakes. I want us to KNOW. I don’t want there to be doubts floating around in our heads, impacting our relationships down the road. This is too important for there to be any mistakes. My one sister (J) told my other sister (R) that she is afraid to become emotionally invested in a relationship with me without knowing for sure. I GET that so completely, and fortunately, R told her that I get it. I guess J was worried that I’d think I was unwanted because she isn’t calling me everyday. R reassured her that I’m not thinking that at all and again stressed that I truly understand the need to protect her heart. I’m the same way. And quite frankly, if the tables were turned, I’d be reacting exactly as J is!

I care about this too much to leave it to chance. (A note to mom who can read this from “The Everafter”: Mom, this all would have been easier if you had told the kids about me before you died. I love you, I hope you don’t let fear be your guiding star your next time through life!)

Anyway, so I had been looking online for “home siblingship” DNA tests. Found a bunch with prices all over the place. Cheapest was $180 for two siblings to be tested. I began doing research. An “absolute must” when choosing a DNA lab is to ensure they are accredited by the AABB (American Association of Blood Banks). Guess what the $180 testing company doesn’t have?

Now, I’m no geneticist, but let me try and explain the DNA of siblings in very layman terms. A child gets half their DNA from one parent, half from another. But multiple children don’t automatically get the same 50% from each parent, equalling 100%. So in reality, two siblings are only likely to have 50% of their DNA match one another. This is in the case of FULL siblings (same mother and same father). I don’t have the same father as my sisters. J & R don’t have the same father, either. Which means we only have 25% of our DNA in common. We have the added complication of not having our mother alive to be tested as well. So our sibship study has to be pretty intensive in order to give us accurate results.

I’m not leaving this up to chance or to a potentially flybynight company. So I went to the best. Orchid Cellmark. This is the company that did DNA testing for the OJ Simpson trial, the Jon Benet Ramsey case, etc. It’s going to cost me $900 for me, J & R to all be tested. (Accuracy is higher with three children to compare.) I’m thinking that is $900 well spent, especially considering I was willing to spend that much (and more) just to find them. Since I didn’t have to spend that kind of money on the search, I have it to spend on the test.

I’ve already been told that I’m insane for doing this – twice in the last 24 hours.

I disagree. I think it is worth every dime.

Orchid Cellmark has already opened a “case file” for us. My sister R and I called them together last night so she could give them hers and J’s contact info. Once I pay the fee (sending it in Monday), the lab will call each of us and schedule a time for us to go to the nearest lab they have a contract with. There is one near all of us. We will each go in, on our own, and get our cheeks swabbed. It takes them about two weeks to do the study and give us our results. I can live with that.

I truly believe these women are my sisters. R and I both “allowed ourselves” to become emotionally involved with each other. We took the risk because our instincts both say it is safe to. Honestly, I couldn’t help myself – she and I are so much alike. Plus, I’ve no doubt that under other circumstances, R and I would have been the best of friends anyway. She said, “at the very least, I’ve made a new good friend.” Exactly. But I know in my heart it is more. My heart knows these are my sisters even as my mind says “Hold up there, girl, don’t go jumping feet first!” It’s this weird dichotomy I’ve got going on in my head and heart.

Getting all metaphysical on you, here, but I really believe our mom has had a hand in making this reunion possible. I can’t really go into details because I don’t want to betray a friend but let me just say that I truly believe that there was some serious “divine mom guidance” going on, particularly in the early days of my information seeking. Too many “perfect circumstances” showed up through which I was able to glean information. I don’t believe things happen like that by chance. I believe they are deliberate.

(Yes, Mia, Abe-Hicks and ACIM too! LOL)

I’m excited about finishing the DNA studies. I think we all feel like we are sort of in limbo right now until they’re complete. I think we all need these questions answered before we can move on and start building a sibling relationship, making plans together, etc. I’m hoping it is done by Easter – we would like to drive down there for the long Easter weekend. I’m not sure we “should” unless the results are back. But we’ll see. My mind says, “be careful.” My heart says, “Wheeeeeeeeee!!”

This is probably the longest post you’ll ever read from me. Sit back, grab a cuppa joe, and get ready – I’m going to go out on a major limb, here. I’m going to discuss my spiritual beliefs within the context of my adoption and my life. I’m doing this because Kim Kim asked on her blog, “What have you humans done for your adoption healing work?”

I hate not being “in control.” I hate the idea that my life, my experiences, are somehow left to the whims of fate. I hate the idea that I am somehow at the mercy of other people’s choices. Those ideas have never rung true for me.

About 10 years ago, I picked up a book. I read it, thought about it, liked what it had to say – but quickly forgot about it. It came back into my life about 4 years ago. By this time, the author had written more books, and I eagerly devoured them. It spoke to me so deeply that I ended up working for the global non-profit organization this author had started and for 2 years, I gave freely some 80 hours a week of my time. I’m still involved with that organization, though I’ve been on a leave of absence while I “dealt with” all this “adoption stuff.”

What I found in those books was not a belief system. What I found, instead, was a confirmation of things I already believed. I found that someone had taken my core beliefs and expanded on them, explored them further and, biggest surprise of all, that there are literally millions of people who believe the same.

These, then, are my core beliefs:

We are all one with each other and with God.

There is enough.

There is nothing we have to do.

Ours is not a better way; ours is merely another way.

None of us is better than any other of us.

Freedom is the essence of life, not something we earn.

Love knows no condition or limitation.

Joy is our natural state of being.

Life is our most sacred trust and our highest value.

There is one more which is not spelled out explicitly above, and that is this: I believe with every fibre of my being that we choose every moment, every experience, every breath of our lives. I believe this on such a fundamental level, it permeates every aspect of my life.

This is a hard belief for most people to accept. The immediate reaction is, “Who would choose to be raped? Abused? Adopted? Murdered? Sick with cancer? Suffering of any kind? WHO WOULD CHOOSE THIS???”

The answer is, “I would.”

But it is more than that. The “I” that I refer to does not consciously exist in my head. It is not an “I” which I can point to and say, “that is the ME who chose this.” The “I” that I refer to is a piece of ourselves which science doesn’t acknowledge exists, which has no physical space in our bodies we can point to. The “I” is the Soul.

I can’t tell you where my Soul dwells. I can’t point to a place in my body, a spot on a map. I can’t draw you a picture. But I know it exists. Just as I know that the air I breathe exists, though I cannot see it. Science can show me how they’ve measured “air,” they can show me their experiments demonstrating “air,” but I am not a scientist. I cannot measure or demonstrate “air” in all its fullness, all its perfection. I take it on faith that the next time I expand my lungs to breathe, there will be air there to fill them. On this I base my trust that air exists.

For me, my Soul is equally real. I trust it exists based on what I’ve observed. I have observed what I believe to be the moment the Soul leaves the body of loved-ones. I have even observed what I believe to be a functional human body moving, talking, existing, without the slightest spark of a Soul. My Soul, like God, may not be visible or measurable by any instruments we know of – but I do not doubt the existence of either.

I just have a slightly different take on what my Soul (and God) are up to than most of the world does.

See, I believe that my Soul and the Souls of those I come into contact with during this “life,” have made some agreements. I believe we agreed to share certain experiences. Most of those are pretty awesome, fun experiences. Woo Hoo! Party time!

Some of them are not so fun.

I believe that my Soul chose to experience the thing called “adoption,” the thing called “abuse,” the thing called “rape.”

I equally believe that my Soul chose to experience the thing called “reunion,” the thing called “motherhood,” and the thing called “true love.”

I’m just not the type to take credit for the good and shove off blame for the bad. I “own” both, equally.

So now the question – why on earth would anyone choose those things??

Good question. I have an answer. (One which works for me, anyway)

Let me give you a scenario – I want you to consider it for a while:

You go to the store. You find a cool video game. You decide to take it home and play it. It is a fantasy game filled with sorcerers, monsters, buried treasure, a cool quest, neat characters, pretty scenery and some rather interesting music. So you pop it into your computer, boot it up, and the game asks you to build a character. You consider the options – tall or short; black, brown or white; green eyes or blue; sorcerer or rogue; male or female – you get the idea. The game asks you to assign this character a name. You call her “Heart.” The game asks you to give Heart a few skills – you pick fire ball, ice orb, lightning bolt. The game asks you to pick a quest – you decide that Heart is going to go kill the “big badassed demon from the 4th level of hell.” Your character is ready, the stage is set, the game has built up the scenery, put the monsters in place and you click “start.”

You send Heart out of the safety of the encampment and off into the big bad world of the big badassed demon from the 4th level of hell. Right outside the gate, she finds a pile of gold. Cool! She tucks it away to use towards the purchase of better skills. She walks a few more feet and encounters “minor badassed demon from the 1st level of hell.” She easily blasts right through him, getting just the tiniest bit banged up in the process. That’s ok, she stops by the healer and is raring to go. Meanwhile, you’re sitting in your comfortable lounge chair, sipping a coke, munching on a bag of chips, moving her around this “dangerous world” you’ve created. Heart goes a few more steps – oops, another badassed demon. WHUMP! Heart is killed. “Damn damn damn” you cuss. “Shit. Fuck. Crap!” you exclaim. A window pops up on the screen, “GAME OVER – Would you like to play again?” You click “Yes” and Heart is reborn.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Finally, after about a dozen attempts, Heart makes it to the “big badassed demon from the 4th level of hell.” In her previous attempts, she has been burned, beaten, blown up, bitten and otherwise made very very dead. She has also found some very cool treasure, met some rather interesting people, and generally had a pretty interesting time of it. You’ve completely enjoyed yourself, too, quickly getting over the disappointment each time Heart “died,” because you know she’s not really dead – it’s just a matter of clicking “Play Again.”

You had fun experiencing Heart’s journey. Her quest. Even when she was getting bitten and blown up – slightly annoying but no big deal in the big scheme of things. “Play Again.” And you certainly haven’t been hurt by her being blown up or beheaded.

It’s just a game. You, the player, can’t REALLY be hurt by what goes on inside the game. You’re controlling it, directing the general path. The game has some randomness thrown in – assorted monsters where you least expect them, hidden treasure you didn’t know existed.

It’s just a game – and when you’re done playing, you shut it off and go on with your “real” life.

It’s just a game.

Now imagine, for a moment, that you could put yourself in Heart’s shoes. In her head. In her mind.

How might the world look to you?

“Why in the FUCK are there monsters every time I turn around?”
“God DAMN that bastard cut off my arm and it fucking HURTS!”
“Fuck, I don’t want to die…”
“Damnit, it’s raining – again.”
“Ooooooo – pretty! -grabs the treasure, gets arm blown off by hidden spell– Ah FUCK!”
“Why does this always happen to me?”

You, meanwhile, are off talking with friends about the game. “And then I went up against the 6th romoton demon from the 40th anchors of Samalay, and I KICKED HIS ASS!”

“You” of course, physically did no such thing. Heart did it, at your behest, not even consciously knowing you exist or that she is a part of you. She is you, she just doesn’t know it. You are her, and love to lay claim to that identity. “I KICKED HIS ASS!”

Yes, you did – while you were playing the character you created called “Heart.”

This is, I believe, the relationship between our Soul (the player) and our conscious selves (Heart). We are one and the same, but only one of “Us” is aware of that. Me, as the player, does not see the monsters (rapists, abusers, etc.) as scary. Me, as the player, sees them as all part of the game. Perhaps a bit annoying when they “win,” but of no lasting consequence. Just a bump in the game to be won through.

For me, these beliefs are extremely empowering. Because the more I am aware of the relationship between me (Heart) and Me (Soul), the more control I’m able to exert – and Me (Soul) is perfectly willing to give me that control because Soul knows there is no real difference between Us.

The more control I exert, the better my life (from my perspective WITHIN ‘the game’) becomes. A lot of fear goes away. A lot of hurt becomes less long-lasting. Because I know that eventually, I’ll decide to stop playing this game and go back to my “real” life. Some people call that place heaven – I don’t know what to call it beyond “the Oneness.” Oneness with everything. A piece of God, perhaps.

You and I are the same. At the molecular level, we are identical. We are atoms and the space between the atoms. Our “difference” lies only in how those atoms come together. This batch comes together to look like me, that batch comes together to look like you, another batch comes together to look like a computer, a dog, a can of soda.

Neale and I have had some fabulous arguments about some of the things he says in later books. I love him, I don’t always agree with him. We’re both ok with that. Thankfully, he’s not interested in being anyone’s guru, or in having all the answers. If he was, I’d run away far and fast. Neale Donald Walsch is more of a “just suppose…” kind of guy. I can deal with that.

I’m going to leave you with a story. This is a children’s book Neale wrote called “The Little Soul and the Sun.” It is copyrighted, obviously – fortunately Neale is ok with his stuff being shared. If you read nothing else, read this story. This is what I believe, and THIS is how I “deal” with my adoption, my rape, my abuse – and with my joy, my love, my happiness.

Once upon no time, there was a little Soul who said to God, “I know who I am.”

The Little Soul was so happy, for it had figured out what all the souls in the Kingdom were there to figure out.

“Wow,” said the Little Soul, “this is really cool!”

But soon, knowing who it was was not enough. The Little Soul felt stirrings inside, and now wanted to be who it was. And so the Little Soul went back to God (which is not a bad idea for all souls who want to be Who They Really Are) and said,

“Hi, God! Now that I know Who I am, is it okay for me to be it?”

And God said, “You mean you want to be Who You Already Are?”

“Well,” replied the Little Soul,” it’s one thing to know Who I Am, and another thing altogether to actually be it. I want to feel what it’s like to be the Light!”

“But you already are the Light,” God repeated, smiling again.
“Yes, but I want to see what that feels like!” cried the Little Soul.

“Well,” said God with a chuckle, “I suppose I should have known. You always were the adventuresome one.”

Then God’s expression changed. “There’s only one thing…”

“What?” asked the Little Soul.

“Well, there is nothing else but the Light. You see, I created nothing but what you are; and so, there is no easy way for you to experience yourself as Who You Are, since there is nothing that you are not.”

“Huh?” said the Little Soul, who was now a little confused.

“Think of it this way,” said God. “You are like a candle in the Sun. Oh, you’re there all right. Along with a million, gazillion other candles who make up the Sun. And the sun would not be the Sun without you. Nay, it would be a sun without one of its candles…and that would not be the Sun at all; for it would not shine as brightly. Yet, how to know yourself as the Light when you are amidst the Light -that is the question.”

“Well,” the Little Soul perked up, “you’re God. Think of something!”

Once more God smiled. “I already have,” God said. “Since you cannot see yourself as the Light when you are in the Light, we’ll surround you with darkness.”

“What’s darkness?” the Little Soul asked.

God replied, “It is that which you are not.”

“Will I be afraid of the dark?” cried the Little Soul.

“Only if you choose to be,” God answered. “There is nothing, really, to be afraid of, unless you decide that there is. You see, we are making it all up. We are pretending.”

“Oh,” said the Little Soul, and felt better already.

Then God explained that, in order to experience anything at all, the exact opposite of it will appear. “It is a great gift,” God said, “because without it, you could not know what anything is like. You could not know Warm without Cold, Up without Down, Fast without Slow. You could not know Left without Right, Here without There, Now without Then.”

“And so,” God concluded, “when you are surrounded with darkness, do not shake your fist and raise your voice and curse the darkness. Rather be a Light unto the darkness, and don’t be mad about it. Then you will know Who You Really Are, and all others will know, too. Let your Light shine so that everyone will know how special you are!”

“You mean it’s okay to let others see how special I am?” asked the Little Soul.

“Of course!” God chuckled. “It’s very okay! But remember,’special’ does not mean ‘better.’ Everybody is special, each in their own way! Yet many others have forgotten that. They will see that it is okay for them to be special only when you see that it is okay for you to be special.”

“Wow,” said the Little Soul, dancing and skipping and laughing and jumping with joy. “I can be as special as I want to be!”

“Yes, and you can start right now,” said God, who was dancing and skipping and laughing right along with the Little Soul.

“Well,” God explained, “being the Light is being special, and being special has a lot of parts to it. It is special to be kind. It is special to be gentle. It is special to be creative. It is special to be patient. Can you think of any other ways it is special to be?”

The Little Soul sat quietly for a moment. “I can think of lots of ways to be special!” the Little Soul then exclaimed. “It is special to be helpful. It is special to be sharing. It is special to be friendly. It is special to be considerate of others!”

“Yes!” God agreed, “and you can be all of those things, or any part of special you wish to be, at any moment. That’s what it means to be the Light.”

“I know what I want to be, I know what I want to be!” the Little Soul announced with great excitement. “I want to be the part of special called ‘forgiving’. Isn’t it special to be forgiving?”

“Oh, yes,” God assured the Little Soul. “That is very special.”

“Okay,” said the Little Soul. “That’s what I want to be. I want to be forgiving. I want to experience myself as that.”

“Good,” said God, “but there’s one thing you should know.”

The Little Soul was becoming a bit impatient now. It always seemed as though there were some complication.

“What is it?” the Little Soul sighed.

“There is no one to forgive.”
“No one?” The Little Soul could hardly believe what had been said.

“No one!” God repeated. “Everything I have made is perfect. There is not a single soul in all creation less perfect than you. Look around you.”

It was then that the Little Soul realized a large crowd had gathered. Souls had come from far and wide ~ from all over the Kingdom ~ for the word had gone forth that the Little Soul was having this extraordinary conversation with God, and everyone wanted to hear what they were saying. Looking at the countless other souls gathered there, the Little Soul had to agree. None appeared less wonderful, less magnificent, or less perfect than the Little Soul itself. Such was the wonder of the souls gathered around, and so bright was their Light, that the Little Soul could scarcely gaze upon them.

“Who, then, to forgive?” asked God.

“Boy, this is going to be no fun at all!” grumbled the Little Soul. “I wanted to experience myself as One Who Forgives. I wanted to know what that part of special felt like.”

And the Little Soul learned what it must feel like to be sad. But just then a Friendly Soul stepped forward from the crowd.

“Not to worry, Little Soul,” the Friendly Soul said, “I will help you.”

“You will?” the Little Soul brightened. “But what can you do?”

“Why, I can give you someone to forgive!”

“You can?”

“Certainly!” chirped the Friendly Soul. “I can come into your next lifetime and do something for you to forgive.”

“But why? Why would you do that?” the Little Soul asked. “You, who are a Being of such utter perfection! You, who vibrate with such a speed that it creates a Light so bright that I can hardly gaze upon you! What could cause you to want to slow down your vibration to such a speed that your bright Light would become dark and dense? What could cause you ~ who are so light that you dance upon the stars and move through the Kingdom with the speed of your thought–to come into my life and make yourself so heavy that you could do this bad thing?”

“Simple,” the Friendly Soul said. “I would do it because I love you.”

The Little Soul seemed surprised at the answer.

“Don’t be so amazed,” said the Friendly Soul, “you have done the same thing for me. Don’t you remember? Oh, we have danced together, you and I, many times. Through the eons and across all the ages have we danced. Across all time and in many places have we played together. You just don’t remember.”

“We have both been All Of It. We have been the Up and the Down of it, the Left and the Right of it. We have been the Here and the There of it, the Now and the Then of it. We have been the male and the female, the good and the bad; we have both been the victim and the villain of it.”

“Thus have we come together, you and I, many times before; each bringing to the other the exact and perfect opportunity to Express and to Experience Who We Really Are. And so,” the Friendly Soul explained further, “I will come into your next lifetime and be the ‘bad one’ this time. I will do something really terrible, and then you can experience yourself as the One Who Forgives.

“But what will you do?” the Little Soul asked, just a little nervously, “that will be so terrible?”

“Oh,” replied the Friendly Soul with a twinkle, “we’ll think of something.”
Then the Friendly Soul seemed to turn serious, and said in a quiet voice, “You are right about one thing, you know.”

“What is that?” the Little Soul wanted to know.

“I will have to slow down my vibration and become very heavy to do this not-so-nice thing. I will have to pretend to be something very unlike myself. And so, I have but one favour to ask of you in return.”

“Oh, anything, anything!” cried the Little Soul, and began to dance and sing, “I get to be forgiving, I get to be forgiving!”

Then the Little Soul saw that the Friendly Soul was remaining very quiet.
“What is it?” the Little Soul asked. “What can I do for you? You are such an angel to be willing to do this for me!”

“Of course this Friendly Soul is an angel!” God interrupted. “Everyone is! Always remember: I have sent you nothing but angels.”

And so the Little Soul wanted more than ever to grant the Friendly Soul’s request. “What can I do for you?” the Little Soul asked again.

“In the moment that I strike you and smite you,” the Friendly Soul replied, “in the moment that I do the worst to you that you could possible imagine ~ in that very moment…”

“Yes?” the Little Soul interrupted, “yes…?””Remember Who I Really Am.”

“Oh, I will!” cried the Little Soul, “I promise! I will always remember you as I see you right here, right now!”

“Good,” said the Friendly Soul, “because, you see, I will have been pretending so hard, I will have forgotten myself. And if you do not remember me as I really am, I may not be able to remember for a very long time. And if I forget Who I Am, you may even forget Who You Are, and we will both be lost. Then we will need another soul to come along and remind us both of Who We Are.”

“No, we won’t!” the Little Soul promised again. “I will remember you! And I will thank you for bringing me this gift ~ the chance to experience myself as Who I Am.

” And so, the agreement was made. And the Little Soul went forth into a new lifetime, excited to be the Light, which was very special, and excited to be that part of special called Forgiveness.

And the Little Soul waited anxiously to be able to experience itself as Forgiveness, and to thank whatever other soul made it possible. And at all the moments in that new lifetime, whenever a new soul appeared on the scene, whether that new soul brought joy or sadness–and especially if it brought sadness–the Little Soul thought of what God had said.

“Always remember,” God had smiled, “I have sent you nothing but angels.”

I’ve fallen behind on updating the Linky Links, so pleaseeeeeee be kind and post a link to your blog (or cool blogs you read regularly) in the comments so I can get you (them) added! I’m beggin’ here! All links added to Linky Links also get posted on the Soul of Adoption website! (For which, by the way, I’m still looking for columnists!)

“Sometime” 1993: Requested non-id from agency
“Sometime” 1993: Attended a few adoptee support meetings
“Sometime” 1993: Was convinced (read: manipulated, guilted, etc.) to not search for birth family and stupidly, I went along with it
“Sometime” between 1993 and 1998: Lost copy of non-id from agency
December 6th, 2005: Joined adoption.com
December 7th, 2005: Made my first blog entry
January 3rd, 2006: Sent in new request for non-id
January 10th, 2006: Sent in registration to IARMIE and ISRR
January 25th, 2006: Received info from IARMIE
February 16th, 2006: Received a copy of my non-id
March 16th, 2006: For the first time in my life, I spoke to not one, but TWO people who share my DNA!!!

Yes, dear readers, I spent yesterday evening on the phone with my sisters J and R. (Since we haven’t talked about blogging, etc. yet, I don’t want to share names until I have their permission – sorry!)

I’m sorry I made you wait almost 24 hours to hear about it, but I really needed time to process everything I learned. I still haven’t done that, but I’m at least a whole lot calmer and less prone to fits of bouncing off the walls in excitement. LOL

So first – it was good. No rejection, no “nightmare come true,” no “we don’t want you,” none of that. Second, and equally important, I learned that our mother died in 1998. I still haven’t figured out quite how I feel about that beyond a very selfish sadness that I won’t ever have the chance to know her, to talk to her, to share our lives, our history, our secrets. I feel the loss of the answers she could have provided. I guess I don’t yet “know” her enough through my sisters and brothers to feel the loss of who she was quite yet. I expect that to change. J & R are very “sharing” people, willing to talk about anything it seems, so I don’t doubt that I’ll get to know our mother through their eyes and experiences. I am very much looking forward to that. I also learned that the man whose name my mother listed as my father passed in 1995. However, the physical/social background listed on my non-id doesn’t match him at all. My sister R has a different father from the rest of our siblings – she doesn’t know enough about him to be able to “recognize” him in my non-id. But R and I look the most alike one another, so it is possible that we share the same father. If that’s the case, he is alive – but totally denied any contact with R when she was in her 20’s. R and I joked on the phone about showing up on his doorstep together some day in the future and saying “Hi dad, we’re your daughters.” LOL

The truth is, I don’t much care about my paternity. It also seems unimportant to J & R. The fact that we share a mother seems to be enough. I did, however, suggest to both of them that a siblingship DNA test might be in order since our mother didn’t tell anyone about me. I don’t want there to be any doubt in their mind or in mine about our kinship. So I told them I’d gladly pay for the testing and suggested that R and I be the ones to be tested. That will definitely establish maternity and let us know if she and I have the same father. If we do, cool. If not, that’s cool, too – if need be, J and I can have our DNA done for paternity as well, if we get curious. But like I said, paternity doesn’t seem to be particularly important to any of us.

R and I are “dead ringers” for each other. I also look a lot like my mom. And there’s a picture of one of the nieces from when she was about 12 I think – it looks so much like me at that age, it’s scary. I can also see myself in my sisters J and S.

I should probably tell you about “the players”:

S is my oldest sister – she is going to be 47 in two days. (Aren’t I a neat birthday present? LOL)
J is the next oldest – she is 45 and her birthday is just 11 days after mine!
C is my oldest brother – he is 44
R would be my next oldest brother – he would be 43 but he died in, I think, 1986.
T would be the next oldest brother – he would be 40 but he died in 1972
R is my next oldest sister – she is 37 and her birthday is just 5 days before mine!
E is my next oldest brother – he is 35 and was actually adopted by an aunt in the family
Then there’s me.

In addition to all of us, there are assorted spouses, children, aunts and uncles, etc. HUGE family! HUGE! I told R she needed to draw me a map at some point. LOL She was very excited because they have a family reunion in July and wants me to be there. She was kind of complaining we live too far apart – they’re in VA, but I told her I have NO problem traveling. I plan on making as many trips down there as I can and will happily fly them up here whenever possible.

I spent almost 2 hours on the phone with J and then another 2 hours with R. Calling J was a bit awkward. I initially told her I was trying to do genealogical research and wanted to speak with JL (our mom). She said something that I didn’t hear because my phone kind of cut out, so I’m rambling and she says, “I said, ‘she’s dead!’” Ooops. “Uh…er…um…er…” Fortunately, she asked me something like, “what type of genealogical research are you trying to do?” Time to fish or cut bait, I realized, so I blurted it all out. I don’t even know exactly what I said. She really seemed to take it all in stride. We started comparing notes, talking about what I knew, medical stuff, etc. She asked if I had a picture, so I sent her a bunch. She told me I looked a lot like our sister R. Near the end of the conversation she said that they have an “Aunt D” (mom’s best friend) who, if there is anyone in the world mom would have told about me, it would be “Aunt D.” So she was going to try and reach her after she called her other sisters. She told me to expect more calls. LOL J sent me 4 pictures – some of her, R, S and of our mother. Wow. People who look like me. Wow!

J gave me tons of information about their lives growing up, the family, medical, all kinds of stuff. It was wonderful! Her husband and kids were swarming around her saying, “Ask her this…tell her that…” It was pretty funny! She seemed only marginally surprised that there was an “unknown sister” out there in the world. I think most of her surprise stemmed from the fact that our mother knew she was dying for several months and still didn’t tell any of them about me. However, knowing what I know now about the messages adoption agencies put in these women’s heads back then, I can’t say I’m particularly surprised. I doubt our mom ever thought I’d show up. I’m guessing she assumed that if I hadn’t found her by the time I was 28, I probably wasn’t going to find her at all. I’m sorry it took me another 8 years.

J said she was going to call our other sisters and “Aunt D” and we got off the phone.

About an hour later, maybe less, the phone rang again – it was my sister R. You know how you hear about birth family members just sort of “clicking”? That was R and I. I felt it with J as well, but it was more of a process over the two hour call – mostly because of how the call started, I think. With R, it seemed almost instant. Within a few minutes we were both laughing over the “weirdness” of the whole thing. We had a great conversation. We’re very much alike. Similar sense of humor, too! What was so great about talking to R was that, because she had an “unknown” father, she understood so much of what I’ve gone through as an adoptee. Finding siblings I could get along with was wonderful, finding siblings who “get it” was something I never even dared to hope for! It felt so good talking to her, it was so encouraging. I mean, we didn’t just talk about adoption stuff – we compared notes about what our pregnancies were like, labor, talked about our kids, husbands and ex-husbands, etc. It was like suddenly meeting a new friend who you knew you could share every single secret with.

One of the best things, though, was the way she kept using words like “sister” and “our”. Do you know what I mean? Inclusive family terms, including me in them. Wow.

By the end of the call we were laughing about the awkward “what next” question hanging in the air. Like, how do you hang up with someone in this situation? The usual “talk to you later” seems so NOT fitting. We both felt it, and both laughed about it – and both knew WHY we were laughing. So our solution was to share our “personal communication styles.” She noted that she’s bad about making phone calls, I said I’m the same way. We both said we like emailing, though I don’t think she has a computer at home, only at work. She gave me both her home and cell numbers and we both said “call anytime.” It was cool, very very cool.

I’m not sure what comes next. I sent J & R a link to the site that sells siblingship kits so they could look it over. Once I hear back, I’ll order a kit for R and I. It’s pretty quick – once you submit your kit, it only takes them 5 days to produce results. I think J was surprised I suggested doing this, but I explained about the scammers in the world and I really feel this is best for everyone’s peace of mind, especially since our mother isn’t alive to confirm everything for us. I was just glad they weren’t offended by the idea. R thought it was a great idea, too!

So that’s where I am today. One day into reunion with what I’m sure is my family. About the only way they are NOT my family is if someone totally posed as JL, used her name, her details, all her information and gave birth to me. Believe me, that is highly doubtful. The only way that would be even remotely possible was if it was one of JL’s sisters – we all look way too much alike. Very unlikely.

In any event, we’ll know soon enough!

I’m feeling very happy, very excited, very eager. Still processing everything I learned, but there is plenty of time for that now!

Yes, you read that right. I found them. Last night, middle of the night, through sheer happenstance and coincidence, I found them. I found her, her new husband, her ex-husband and all her kids. It even looks like she had a baby boy about a year and a half after I was born with her new husband. Cool, a baby brother!

There are six older siblings. So if her new husband’s son is also hers, she had 8 kids, total. I think two of them died at birth or shortly thereafter. I can’t find any record of them after they were born, anywhere.

I have a phone number for one of my sisters. I’ve tried it a few times but only gotten an answering machine. I’ll keep calling until I get a real person and then try to get my mother’s phone number from her.

In the meantime, I’m sitting here on pins and needles. God, this is scary.

This entry is about medical issues. Specifically, medical issues I’m dealing with. This post is NOT for the “faint at heart.” I’m going to be talking about some gross stuff here. What is important is that if I’d had access to my birth family right from the start, it would not have taken me over 10 years to find out what is happening with my body, why I have to suffer with pain all the time, why my body seems filled with poison and why it won’t go away – ever.

I have a rare chronic disease called Hidradenitis Suppurativa. Say that three times fast. I can’t even pronounce it despite a pretty extensive medical background. It is also known as Acne Inversa. Wait, before you go “oh, acne, big deal” and click off the page. Believe me, I wouldn’t be bitching if we were talking about a couple of zits or pimples.

Want to know what Hidradenitis Suppurativa looks like, and why it is not “oh, acne, big deal”?

Does that look like a couple of zits or pimples? Nor is this just a cosmetic issue – if it was, I’d ignore it. I’m just not that wrapped up in my appearance.

What it all boils down to (pun intended) is multiple boil-like inflammations on the breasts, underarms, abdomen, back, thighs, buttocks and pubis which become so inflamed, swollen and filled with poison (pus) they can literally pose a life-threatening risk. I had one so bad last year it had to be cut out of me. I spiked a fever to 104. I had a massive infection flowing through my body, poisoning me slowly, and antibiotics weren’t touching it. Not to mention the fact that the ER gave me MORPHINE and that didn’t even begin to alleviate the pain. It wasn’t until they administered a local anesthetic that I was able to be even remotely comfortable.

I get several of these a month – painful, gross, disgusting, poison-filled bumps on my body. They leak, ruining clothing, sheets, towels, etc. They sometimes smell – it’s like my body is rotting. Would you want to have sex with your husband when you had a few of these near some of your “intimate areas”?

For years, I was too embarrassed to mention them to my doctor. I thought it had to be a hygiene issue. Something I was doing “wrong.” That somehow, I was causing this to happen. The few times I was forced to seek medical treatment for one which was so severely infected I couldn’t get it to go away, I felt immense shame. As if I was somehow failing to take care of my body. That was usually reinforced by the doctors – “bathe more,” or “change your soap,” or “lose weight,” or other comments which laid the entire fault for this at my feet.

Well guess what? It’s not my fault. It’s not that I don’t bathe enough, or that I don’t use the right soap, or that I need to lose weight (though that might help reduce occurances because these pop up wherever skin rubs skin, so the fewer places of skin on skin, the better), or anything of the sort. I will continue to get these my entire life and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it except finally start treating them pro actively when they do happen – which will hopefully keep it from killing me as a result of an infection raging unchecked through my body. And maybe I can stop having chunks of skin surgically removed, but with some of these, that is going to be the only option available.

There has been almost NO research done into Hidradenitis Suppurativa in the United States. Most of the research has been in Europe. It does seem to be more common in those suffering from hashimotos thyroiditis. Guess what I was diagnosed with at 18? However, since there are only a handful of doctors in the US who have become educated about Hidradenitis Suppurativa, finding a doctor who actually knows what they are looking at and knows how to treat it is rare. Fortunately, there’s a doctor about 35 miles from me who knows all about it.

Did I mention that these little bastards like to build tunnels (“sinus tracts”) between them, thus spreading them even more? Yup, invasive fucking disease.

All of which could possibly have been avoided if I’d been allowed to know my birth family. Oh, did I mention this is genetic? Yup, which means it’s a near certainty that others in my family have had to deal with this. But then, the law says I’m not entitled to know about that. No, no, better that I die because most doctors don’t know shit about this disease than -gasp– actually consider giving me access to my records and, through them, to those who might have experience and answers for me.

As far as I’m concerned, adoption has proven to be dangerous to my health. Fuck that shit. I’m really leaning towards the “outlaw closed adoptions entirely” camp. I am coming to believe that a closed adoption is entirely rooted in selfishness – whether that be the selfishness of an adoptive family who doesn’t want to have a “spooky first mother intruding” in their lives or the selfishness of a first mother who wants to “do away with a problem.” Fuck both groups as far as I’m concerned. And fuck the agencies and legislators who allow this to continue, who fail to encourage openness, who fail to make sure all parties are fully informed. Your crap is now endangering MY life – unacceptable. I don’t want to hear arguments about crack-addicted sluts. (Anyone catch the episode of “Desperate Housewives” where that stereotype was used as a joke? Not much outcry, was there?) You can maintain a semi-open relationship with them or their family, even if it just means keeping informed about where they are in case your child – you know, the one who is supposed to come FIRST in all of this? – needs information from them. Quite frankly, I don’t care if it is a hassle for you – tough shit. You made a choice, now take responsibility for it and move heaven and earth to keep the lines of communication open. Don’t fuck your child over because of your issues.

Right now I’m sitting here in pain. It is difficult to type. I use a laptop. My hands have to be fairly close together to type. That means my upper arms press against the sides of my breasts which pushes my breasts against one another which causes pressure on one of the six poison-filled sacks I’m currently trying to battle off. Since these come up several times a month, I have two options: deal with the constant pain or risk becoming addicted to something like percocets to kill the pain.

This has nothing to do with human adoption, sorry! I’m going to gush on about the doggies hubby and I are going to be adopting next year. Here’s a few pictures of the breed to whet your appetite.

This is a Goldendoodle pup. They are a cross between Golden Retrievers and Poodles.

I really like the coloring in this one – it seems to be a cross between an apricot and a red.

Look at that face!

Awwwwwwwww

Hubby and I plan to bring two male Doods into our family next spring. Even though we’re looking for a rental house right now while we become familiar with our new area, we don’t want to bring home the boys until we have a house (of our own) with several acres for them to romp on. I’d prefer at least 4 acres, lots of room for them to run and play.

We are absolutely in love with this breed. We’ll be looking for two males (litter mates), preferably F1B generation. The F1 generation is a cross between a pure retriever and a pure standard poodle. An F1B is a backcross between an F1 dood and a pure standard poodle. Poodles have hair, not fur, making them more hypoallergenic. That’s not a problem for hubby and I, though. I just like the “curly shag” you get with an F1B. Some breeders have begun to cross two F1’s making an F2 generation. That’d work for us, too. In actuality, I don’t care as much as it sounds like I do – I care more about the personality “fit.”

I love poodles and I love retrievers – a Doodle is the perfect mix for us. Typically, I’m big on rescues – like our cats were both rescue cats. Every dog I had growing up was a rescue as well except one – and we only got him because he was the runt in an AKC line that no one really wanted. We did, though, and I loved him dearly.

So for once, I’m going to go the totally selfish route. The Doods will probably cost around $3,000 for the pair and I’ll gladly pay it. The funny thing is, I don’t even feel remotely guilty about buying from a breeder. It’s funny because I’ve always been vocally AGAINST most breeders. Fortunately, I’ve been able to spend a lot of time learning about reputable Doodle breeders. Because they are a relatively new breed, it seems breeders and such are very well documented.

Doods are extremely social dogs. They thrive in an environment where they are “part of the family.” They are generally easily trained and obedient yet playful. They don’t take well to being left alone for extended period of time.

During the years we were driving all over the country for hubby’s job, our cats went with us. We have a wonderful soft-sided dog crate in which we’d place their beds, litter box and food/water. We’d put it in the back of our van or blazer and they’d curl up in their beds and happily snooze the miles away. Even though we won’t be traveling for his work anymore, we still enjoy traveling for vacations. We have an “if we can’t drive, we don’t go” attitude for the most part. Keep in mind, given enough vacation time, we would drive to Alaska without a second thought! LOL It’s not that we’re not interested in international travel. We will do some on a limited basis. And in those circumstances, we have family/friends who would house & pet sit. But our pets are family, we like taking them with us. That’s not going to change once we get the Doods. They’ll learn from puppyhood to be good passengers.

One of the breeders I’m looking at is in Ohio. They’re a few hours from us which is great – we’ll be able to drive down and “meet” the sire and dam and “meet” the litter before they’re ready to come home. I’m looking forward to that. I’ve actually sent a letter to the breeder asking for more info because I want to be totally educated about the breed before we bring them home. I’m hoping the breeder will be open to us making a visit this summer to meet the sires and dams and spend a little time with their newest litters.

I find it strange that you can actually SHIP a puppy? This boggles my mind. Even if we went with a breeder across the country, there’s no way I’d let my Doodbabies be shipped on an airplane! I’d happily drive out to pick them up and drive them home. At least this way, they become acclimated to being in a car from early on.

Hubby and I are already talking names. Here’s a few candidates. Feel free to make suggestions!!! Remember, we’ll be bringing home two brothers. And they’ll lean towards the apricot, red, cream colorings.

Londo & G’kar (Lonnie and Jack) – from one of our favorite shows, B5.
Banichi & Jago (Bean and Yaggie) – from one of our favorite book series, even though in the book, Jago is female.
Xavier & Zander (Zave & Zand) – just two names we like.

I know we have a few others but I’m drawing a blank right now! I’ve got doodle brain, what can I say? LOL

1. Born at Swedish Covenant hospital in Chicago, placed with Lake Bluff Homes for Children. Lucky me, I was adopted.

2. My grandmother died, which still makes me sad because she was the only other redhead in my adoptive family. I wish I’d known her.

3. We moved into the house I’d live in until I was 17

4. I was still sleeping in a crib. My brothers came in with bottles of bubble bath which looked like super hero’s from our grandparents. One of them told me I was adopted, but I remember knowing I already knew that.

5. I started kindergarten. I had a teacher who I can still picture in my mind. She was one of the first people I ever remember treated me with kindness.

6. I got my finger caught in a door at school and lost my fingernail. The doctor and nurse sang “Jingle Bells” with me while they sewed my finger back together. When we got home, my mother watched General Hospital while I laid there. That same year, a girl in my class wet her pants. I walked home with her to change them. We stayed friends for many years. My parents didn’t like me hanging around with her – she was poor.

7. Our class was having a valentines day party. I only got a valentine from the girl I’d walked home the previous year. I gave a valentine to every kid in the class. I was crushed. One of my brothers started molesting me this year. I now know this is also the year one of his teachers began molesting him.

8. My uncle died, right before Christmas. I knew something had happened before I got home from school. No idea how, I just knew. It was horrible. He was my favorite in all the world. I still miss him almost 30 years later.

9. I was extremely intelligent, part of the “gifted” program. As a result, I was put in a split class. The smartest 4th graders and the “dumbest” 5th graders. I was in 4th grade, obviously. The teacher always made you say, “May I…” instead of “Can I…” Guess which grade caught on to this early and which grade did not? Played piano in Grant Park in Chicago. My father was too busy watching a Cubs game to show up.

10. I had a teacher who was OCD about germs. If you sneezed, someone else had to pull out your chair, open the door, etc. so you could go to the bathroom and wash your hands. This was also the year I joined band. I’d been reading music for years so was way ahead of the other kids my age. I took some sort of test and for the next few years, all I got to hear was how intelligent I was and asked why was I wasting it?

11. I was really good in band and got to go to the Junior High every morning to have band practice with the older band. Another kid in the band used to bring in articles he cut from the newspaper about my brother being arrested…again and again and again.

12. I started 7th Grade and found that my 6th grade teacher had moved to the Jr. High – I was horrified, I hated her. I learned all about “Advanced” classes since I was placed in every one of them.

13. I ended up taking Industrial Arts and though I had absolutely no talent at the time, I really enjoyed it. The summer after 8th grade, one of the kids in my class blew off a bunch of his fingers trying to build a giant firecracker. Stupid. Won first place at the solo competition playing Carnival of Venice, the easy version.

14. Freshman year. Still in band. Immediately bumped into Concert band for the older kids instead of Varsity. Won first place at the solo competition playing Carnival of Venice – again – but this time, I did the full version. Told my mother what my brother had been doing to me – she chose to decide I was lying. That kind of thing couldn’t possibly happen in her house. Wrong answer.

15. Discovered theatre at the end of Freshman year, got fully involved Sophomore year. I did props for the non-musicals, orchestra for the musicals. Was accepted into Jazz Band as well. I really was damn good.

20. Pregnant with my oldest. Got married a few months after he was born.

21. Pregnant with my middle. God only knows why I was still married. Had a startling revelation while looking at a picture of my oldest and a picture of me at the same age – we were almost identical. First time I ever saw someone who looked like me. Wow.

22. Pregnant with my youngest. Still married, still stupid. But very much in love with my kids. Went through hell getting my youngest through his first few months of life.

23. Generally making a mess of things and realizing that getting married was really incredibly stupid but at least I had three miracles to show for it.

24. Trying to put my life in order, working as a medic, trying to keep my head above water.

25. Wash, rinse, repeat.

26. Wash, rinse, repeat.

27. Wash, rinse, repeat.

28. Met a really great guy. Liked him. Thought I’d never see him again. Moved to Michigan. Met same really great guy again. Started dating him. Stopped speaking to adoptive family.

29. Really in love with guy now. Accept his proposal. Adopt cats together. Move to our new house. Father died – good riddance.

30. Lost too many friends on September 11th. Alternated between wanting to crawl in a hole and hide and wanting to change the world for the better.

31. Married that really great guy – one of the absolute best decisions I’ve ever made.

32. Still unbelievably happily married – traveling with hubby for his work – working for non-profit organization doing IT/Web design and support.

33. Wash, rinse, repeat.

34. Tired of being on the road, hubby takes job back in Michigan in a lovely rural area – now we’re house hunting and putting down roots again. Searching for birth family, finally. Wish I hadn’t put it off so long but realize I’d have had no chance of finding them until now.